


Letters To Myself

by PAHughes



Category: Horror - Fandom, Mystery - Fandom, Sci-Fi - Fandom, thriller - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14056989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAHughes/pseuds/PAHughes
Summary: How do you talk to someone who isn't there? Write them a letter of course.  But what do you do when they reply?Morgan, Ph.D is a disgraced Astronomer living high on the mountains bordering Peru and Bolivia, his only companion is his monkey, Delores. Living alone in his one room hut objects start to move out of place and events spiral out of control when he tries to contact the being responsible.  Can you figure out who the mysterious pen pal is or will the good Doctor have a surprise in store for you?





	1. A Man and his Monkey

Morgan, BA (Hons), MA, Ph.D was a statue of a man. His unwavering prowess in the field of astronomy had yielded many achievements to gratify him over the years. He was a tall man and used his height to boost his ego, when accompanying fellow colleagues he could not only figuratively, but literally look down on them. His many decades of incomparable dedication to his field had made him a giant amongst the institutes finest. He’d spent years of his younger life wondering the European continent from telescope to telescope studying the skies. Whatever his junior colleagues said about him they would all adhere to the notion that Doctor Morgan was the most enthusiastic about their work. Doctor Morgan was the type of man to correct anyone who dared call him “Mister” and would take any opportunity to dive into his latest research subject in a conversation. The man was as much a professor as any graduate could hope for. Combed back brown hair thinning out at the top and a full face of hair, that had once been stubble to edge a strapping jaw, but was now a bushy untamed mess fit for a lecturer.   
The Professor had given his youth, time, and life to his research. Unprecedented findings had been done during his mid-twenties, a time he should have been living life to the fullest. Now the old Doctor sits mourning a life he cast aside in the name of science. Once he had a team of graduate students to do his busy work so he could concentrate on more important things, like finding far off distant worlds destined to be his namesake. The Professor knew now that he would never be the statue in the middle of a town square or the namesake for a utopian planet, he was an old fool who squandered his life away for people who didn’t care. The old man was on a dying planet watching a universe teeming with life surround him. He would never touch the stars he helped find and he would never breathe the air of another world. All his plaques and certificates that hung on his walls were now just echoes of a life long since passed.   
At his time of life with his level of contributions Doctor Morgan rightly expected to be in a comfy teaching position with tenure. The old man was wrong. When you climb the ladder of success be sure to shake hands with those you meet on the way up, otherwise they’ll kick you on the way down. Doctor Morgan had trampled over and belittled every one of his fellow scientists when he rose to prominence and when the old man came of age to be put out to pasture all of those people came back to bite him. Instead of a teaching position at MIT or Harvard he was a castaway on the slopes of Chawpi Urqu, a mountain on the borders of Bolivia and Peru. There had been word to the London astronomical institute that there were masses of new activity over the skies of the near 20,000ft mountain.   
Upon arriving at the new wonder Doctor Morgan quickly found out that the never before seen activity was just a bust of solar waves being distorted by a growing layer of greenhouse gasses. The truth of his ill-fated situation hit home hard when he requested to be transferred back home and he was told to wait out the activity for at least another few years, a team would be sent his way shortly. This promise was made over twelve years ago and Doctor Morgan had resided himself to the fact that he was an old man who’d been put out of the way and forgotten. For the first eighteen months he sent constant letters to the institute, at first sending notice of his team’s failure to arrive, then to gently remind them that a team was supposed to be sent, and finally as irritated letters begging to be brought home. The next eighteen mouths brought closure to the Doctor. He was to live out his days as a forgotten scientist in a hut clinging to the side of a forgotten mountain.   
Whatever the old Doctor was a survivor. He’d easily planted enough food to keep him going within the first few months and now his little project had bloomed into a kind of oasis. His garden sat atop his rickety old hut in many ways resembling himself, an old falling apart shell with something brilliant at the top. His hut was the best the near locals could do within a short space of time. It had a roof and four walls, although one wall did belong to the mountain face. It had a collage of mismatched rugs covering the floor in place of a carpet and crudely stuck up wallpaper being eaten by the mould that seeped in through the cracks in the wood. The hut was roughly the size of two prison cells and held up by three supporting rusted beams, one underneath the floor sitting in the open air and two spaced in the middle of the room supporting the roof. Over the years the Doctor had made it down to the nearest village nine times. It was a torturing trek but worth it for some human interaction. On his rare visits he had accumulated a beaten but still cushioned arm chair, an abundance of stationary, and some odds and sods electrical parts, a crate of lightbulbs, a clay chiminea, blankets and a Squirrel monkey.   
The monkey, affectionately named Delores after a young lab assistant he had in the late 70’s. She was a beautiful girl with striking red hair just like the monkey’s fur. The good Doctor often reminisced about that girl and how awful we was at trying to talk to her, he’d trip over his own words and sometimes his own feet trying to get the courage to ask her to a dance. After one too many failed attempts another Doctor in the lab asked her and his chance was gone. Little Delores however was a welcome compatriot to his sullen world, the little creature would often be found perched on an old dusty telescope long out of use. The Doctor had lost interest in space and all its wonders and now looked to be content with the world he was bound to. He often spent his nights training Delores to do new tricks, greeting her with a treat every time she got it right. He’d now taught her to play a rough game of snakes and ladders and a very talented game of snap. To the corner of his rustic hut sat a perfectly preserved chess board. The pieces had not been moved in over seven years and there was now a thick layer of dust surrounding each piece. He’d given up trying to teach Delores how to play because it wasn’t the same when your opponent couldn’t talk back.   
The years had started to merge for Doctor Morgan, if it wasn’t for the annual new years visit from the boys in the village he wouldn’t have know one year had passed into another. At first the hours seem to slip away from him, he’d lose entire mornings just pacing about the mountain side. Then he started to lose days, he couldn’t remember if it was Tuesday or Saturday, he’d stopped marking the calendar so the weeks all looked the same with no discernible difference between work and rest. And finally the months faded away, there was no real change between winter and summer, the mountain always had snow and was always cold. His years stuck on the edge of the world became one long day with small respites in-between.   
Doctor Morgan jolted awake in his chair, he must have dosed off without knowing. The room blurred into focus and he spied Delores cuddled up amongst the leaves of the small apple tree that was taking its sweet time to bloom. His chair sat at the outmost of the hut and through a missing plank in the roof he could watch nature take form above him. Resting his head back on the wing of the arm chair he regained his bearings. To the right of the chair was a polythene window. It was three foot long and two foot up but caught an amazing amount of light. The doctor held tight to the arms of the chair and heaved himself out of it. Shuffling over to his makeshift bookcase put together from the crates he and his Sherpa’s had managed to drag up the mountain side. Thinking he knew what the possibly years ahead would entail the Doctor packed minimum clothes and maximum books.   
The bookcase was shoddily put together with bits of old chests held together with odd ends of hanger wire, but it did its duty. The selves were lined with the only pristine objects in the hut. The leather bound, hard back, books were arranged by genre then by author. Plucking from the philosophy section he pulled out an old classic, Plato’s Republic. The books on these shelves had been read and read again. Pulling back the drawstring bookmark he continued his place. Fumbling back to his chair he reached out for his canteen water bottle only to find it sitting mocking him on the edge of his desk. The Desk itself was a gift from the institute, already there when Doctor Morgan moved in. The desk had been accompanied by a small cushioned stool that rolled along the floor, unfortunately it was far too low seated for the Doctor to make full use of it. The dented canteen sat glinting in the afternoon sunlight. “I didn’t leave you there” Doctor Morgan flattened his book against his chest, peering over the edge of his glasses.  
With a sigh the Doctor placed his book down the side of the chair and once again got up to fetch his bottle. Upon retrieving it he stopped for a moment to watch the sun’s rays glisten of the curves of the dents. “You’re talking to yourself now old boy.” The Doctor spoke running the tips of his fingers over the damaged canteen. He felt a pang of sadness as he watched the withered old hands move shakily over the object. His skin had sunk bone deep and the veins popped out like battle wounds pumping the sludge of thick blood around his body. His hand had lost its pink perkiness and was now a pale shroud covering a dead man. Shaking himself out of this melancholy the Doctor fluttered about in his desk and retrieved a few dried insects he’d swatted during the hotter months. Putting the canteen down on the small, wobbly table next to the chair he held his hand up to the pissing wood panel and pushed the dead creatures onto the roof.   
Delores perked up almost instantly. The winter months saw a lack of juicy bugs and these rare treats sent her chirping with delight. Huddling over the little insects she nibbled away at them before clambering down into the hut, greeting Doctor Morgan who once again sat reading his book. She dropped onto the old man’s lap before scampering up to his shoulder. Doctor Morgan places a hand up to his head to tickle behind the monkeys ears, she played along willingly. “And the same natures should follow the same pursuits shouldn’t they? Yes. We come back again…” the monkey squeaked halting the old mans readings. “After all these years.” Doctor Morgan took his glasses from his face turning to the monkey squirming around on the back of the chair. “Are you finally bored with Plato?” The old man had a moment of happiness watching the little creature play above him, feeling the soft warm fur on his face was the most he’d have now. He was far too old to climb back down the mountain and he was sure the New Year had been and went without a visit from the village boys.   
At least, he thought, At least I have a chance of being mummified out here, if I die properly. These grim ideas had become a kind of joke to the old man, a way of getting back at the society that had willingly forgotten him by keeping his story alive, in a way, for future explorers to find and expose. He’d planned to write a recount of his ordeal in the gold leafed ledger he’d brought with him, but somehow, writing in that ledger was like giving up every glimmer of a hope. The book was designed to join his others in a long brown leather tail of memoirs. He’d brought his past books with him to join the collection. He would write every day of a research study in them, telling everything he thought and did. He supposed maybe one day they would be the story of a famous scientist instead of the rantings of a bitter old man. This ledger lay empty, no dates or data to put in it, he left it for his dying words.   
Delores glided from the head of the arm chair to the odd make shift table propped up by three planks of wood. The stumbling table was an excuse for a window frame and acted as nothing more than a balance to place precarious objects to pretty up the place. Lining the shambles of a shelf were rocks that, with help from a broken shard of metal that had splintered off one of the cases the books were held in, where shoddily done carvings of small stone animals. These animals included a one eared rabbit, a stunted giraffe, an unsure doe and a very uncomfortable cat. Playing little heed to what she was doing Delores casually trampled over every one of the quirky characters knocking them to the ground.  
The figures plopped to the ground, the tip of rabbit’s ear broke off and the giraffe’s neck took a small fracture. Delores sat awkwardly, tail swinging off the edge of the window she scarcely clung to. Doctor Morgan leaned forward watching Delores’s eyes twinkle in the sun. The little monkey’s lips always quaked, as if she were about to say something, but she never did. The afternoon sun agreed with her fine coat of red fur as it shone bright in the suns glow. Sometimes the good Doctor wondered if she was really as smart as some primatologists would have us believe. He was sure that when he saw Delores look out on the world from this view she was able to see its majesty, no intelligent creature capable of playing games could be incapable of seeing the beauty in the world around them. In many ways Delores was the reason the Doctor could see it too. He’d spent his whole life with his head in the skies that he’s never stopped to see the beauty of the planet he was on. When he saw that monkey look out onto the world he too finally saw in her the same feeling of awe he had when looking at far off, distant worlds.   
After a long time looking out onto a mountain, a large bird, possibly an Ibis although seeing one this high up was a rarity, came swooping by the make shift window sending the little monkey scurrying back to the Doctor. Holding his hand out to the creature the Doctor chuckled watching her scamper up his arm. Once under his protection Delores started to squall and squeak at the long gone bird. She was a timid creature when it came to confrontation but with an alpha male such as the Doctor, her albeit high pitched, voice finally started to show. Shooing her over to a small box of stuff, a pulled out drawer from nowhere that had found a place here, as a keeper of things that had no home. In the drawer were bits of string, broken rubber bands, odd rocks and a beaten pack of playing cards. The monkey dutifully scampered over retrieving the pack bringing it back to the old man’s shaking hands.   
The Doctor started to fumble open the pack and Delores went and wheeled over the stool that sat under the desk. There was a distinct tract mark between the desk and the armchair where the stool had been wheeled over many times. The carpets had become indented with its pattern. Once it was set at Doctor Morgan’s feet Delores jumped up on its edge and with a few slow shuffles the pack was halved and a quick game of snap ensued. Delores squawked at the Doctor any time she lost and grinned every time she won. They played round after round long into the day. The sun was just grasping the bottom of the window when Doctor Morgan’s eyes fluttered closed holding his next card to be dealt. Delores threw her cards down climbing onto the Doctors knee pulling his card out of his hand, she placed the card on the pile with the others and quickly slammed her hand down on it with a grin.   
The Doctor woke up again just after dusk. He was slouched back in his chair and Delores had escaped back to her nest amongst the tiny trees. The room was only lit by the last embers of the downing sun. In those last few rays the sun had to give the Doctor saw small partials dancing in the air before him. When the light went down the small put together generator kicked into action. It lit one small bulb that dangled from a hook in the roof. The generator had taken a while to put together but with a few highly damaged solar panels it really got into gear. The Doctor had gotten a useless box of old parts of just about everything from the nearest village and with his minor skills in engineering had put together enough power to light one bulb. This bulb dangled from coat hanger hooks prodded into the wooden roof. The light was as dim as can be expected but light was light never the less. The small partials in the air had faded into the night’s blackness and the Doctor rubbed his eyes waking up once more.   
Rising again from his chair, he’d not caught sight of Delores yet nor heard her squeak. He wondered over to the other end of the hut, the one with a communal wall with the mountain. At this end of the hut were dried fruits stored in specimen containers. It wasn’t too often astronomers carried these types of equipment but with a new phenomenon you never know what could fall to earth for the rock monkeys, Geologists, to play with. Doctor Morgan plucked one container full of dried peach segments and turned back to his chair. The only reason the oasis above him worked so well was due to the horrendous dome of polythene that circled the plants. By some miracle the heat of the hut below kept the plants warm while the snow fell and the great vantage point meant an abundance of sunlight. Ducking under the light Doctor Morgan spotted a mess by the window. Putting his peaches down on the arm of the chair she shuffled closer. The rock figures that Delores had knocked off the sill were crumpled into smithereens. They weren’t just cracked they were dust. The Doctor bent down as far as he could and without thought breathed near the trinkets blowing parts of them into the air. These toys weren’t just broken they had been crushed and stomped on. Doctor Morgan pulled his jumper across his chest. Delores must have landed on them after she flew off the sill.   
Doctor Morgan was an intelligent man. His intelligence is partly the reason he was stuck here, but with such abundance of intellect he knew there was no possible way Delores did this damage, but until a more logical alternative reared its head, the monkey did it. A sceptical man could say a poltergeist did it while he slept, or that Bigfoot was actually a Peruvian-Bolivian creature that stalked high up mountain tops in search for badly sculpted animals. As any Crypto-zoologist knows Bigfoot is very much against native art forms and much prefers art nouveau. The Doctors shaking hands held firm against his chest as he wrapped himself in a cardigan covered hug. He couldn’t afford to second guess himself now. He couldn’t afford to be questioning his own logic, not out here, not on his own.   
Shaking the thoughts of doubt from his mind he took up the jar of peaches and perched himself lightly on the edge of the armchair. Some days were good up here, some were horrid. Doctor Morgan could spring out of bed like a man in his early forties sometimes he had to winch himself out of it like the near seventy year old he was. Days where his intellect had shone through like with the generator he was the same man he was at 20. A young, handsome, confident man. On days he couldn’t even get the garden to yield anything he was a bitter old man cast aside by the world with little to no worth in it. Today had been a rough day, and doubting his own mind now would lead him to an early grave. He’d often thought of digging the hole or carving the head stone.   
The old man fingered the dried peach parts with a soft but growing chuckle. Soon his chest was bouncing and the jar was almost shaking its contents out. Delores had knocked down one of the supporting planks holding the windowsill up, of course that would smash soft stone carvings. They were nothing more than hard sand held together by the collective will of the misshapen animals they represented. The old man laughed at his aged superstition. He’d passed aside logic for bouts of geriatric paranoia. It wasn’t too long before Delores popped her head out from the bio dome above him. Hearing the commotion she dropped into the room but stayed a good few feet away from the Doctor, who was now in a rage of laughter and the peaches had spilled out over his lap. Wiping the tears from his eyes Doctor Morgan plucked the peach segments up one by one plopping them back into the jar.   
The Doctor stopped laughing long enough to notice Delores cocking her head to the side, looking at him. Or more specifically the peaches. Twirling one particularly juicy piece of fruit between his fingers he leaned over the jar beckoning the small primate forward, she scampered a foot or two holding a hand out but stopped. She retracted her hand eyeing the Doctor up and down. Approaching at a slow pace she finally reached the treat and nibbled away at it looking back up to the old man between chewing. Doctor Morgan screwed the cap back on the jar and plonked it down on the desk before moving over to his bed. The bed had previously been used as a preserves resting table. After gently brushing the remaining jars onto the floor he shuffled back over to the desk. Taking out a light green fountain pen filled with an elixir of mixed fruit juices he scribbled onto a rough bit of paper “Remember to fix windowsill”.   
He pinned the note down under the jar of peaches and soon scuttled off to bed. After a minute or two Delores jumped in with him burrowing down under his arm. The low hum of the light bulb acted as a night time melody for the two, for as long as that sung there was no real danger.   
Under the jar of preserved peaches a piece of straggled paper was being pulled free. The paper already had scribbled yet neat handwriting on it and so too joined it was messy hard printed letters. The charcoal pencil writing scrubbed out “done”. And the room fell silent.


	2. The Mountain

Chawpi Urqu had shed its summer warmth and since blanketed itself with snow, the soft grass faces had been buried deep under layers of freezing frost. The stones tipping over the edge of the mountains sharp walk ways were now frozen in place. At this time of year the highest points of the mountain peeked through the clouds standing in the way of the winds themselves. As the clouds parted long streams of misshapen and outstretched puffs of cotton reached together over the blazing blue sky, hoping to be re-joined before they are blown asunder for the rest of their short time.   
The nights on this mountain were the most harrowing and the most beautiful. The endless blackness of the sky made any man feel lost in a place that time itself seemed to forget but the glistening jewels lighting the sky above him would make him value his existence. To be part of such a grand spectrum. The locals here often speculated that they could see the furthest stretches of the Milky Way on dark nights.  
The days covered over the universe and all its wonders and instead made a man look to the world he lived on. The miraculous planet that through chaos or cause held breath taking views and wonderments of nature too awe inspiring to ignore. The blue skies were clear. All the time. There was nothing but blue. The galaxies around us were nothing when for miles and miles all one could see would be blue sky breaking apart at the horizon.   
Doctor Morgan spent much of his time out on the mountain. He’d managed to pace himself into a narrow walkway that led from his hut to a high peek with remarkable ease. There was no climbing or heavy steeps to pass through. The peek lay just up a small incline slop and it looked out onto the world in all its majesty. The Doctor spent many days and nights out there just looking at existence. Although he hated his colleagues for what they had done to him he often thought of the irony that they spent their lives at telescopes trying to estimate the universe and not just look at it.   
During the days Doctor Morgan, along with Delores would sit on a small bolder on the peek watching the birds of prey swooping below them for their next meal. Whenever one came too close Delores would always scuttle into the Doctors Coat hiding out of view. The Doctor had managed to worm his way into the bolder with sharp scrapings and plain old sitting. He would bright out a blanket crocheted together to warm his behind.   
At night he would lean back over the rock with a pillow at his head to watch the skies pass above him. At first Delores couldn’t see what he saw but after one particularly busy night of asteroid showers she finally started to look up. Doctor Morgan had long since stopped looking at the stars in front of him and was now able, all be it in his mind, to see far off galaxies. He explored the dwarf galaxy of NGC 1569, blasting through its red layers watching the star formations. He was known to lap the Triangulum Galaxy from time to time but the place he loved, the place Doctor Morgan often got lost wondering in was the Andromeda Galaxy. He’d spent countless hours just looking up into the night sky floating through the magnificent space of the Andromeda just watching existence go on. To him it truly was the ruler of men.   
Of course the dream would only ever be a dream. Doctor Morgan woke up from his fantasies into a pit of depression. His mind started to fall from the astral clouds of green and red, past the trillions of stars and planets both charted and not. He fell back through the skies as these dwarf and major galaxies became minor specs to him. He fell until he reached Earth again. When he woke again on Earth all he could see was the dark night sky and a few million twinkling stars. The moon shone bright on the mountain lighting up his dark pathways, but once you’d visited the NGC 1569 or the beautiful Andromeda the moon didn’t seem all that special anymore. It was the new world, but it was concord. Man had stepped foot on the moon, man had been there, it was tainted with us now.   
As much as Doctor Morgan wanted futuristic worlds to bear his name he didn’t want all of the universe to be discovered. Unlike some he thought there was still beauty in unknown things. Not everything needed a name and not everything needed to be touched. The wonders of existence didn’t need to be categorised some things just need to be.   
The time he spent atop the mountain had humbled the Doctor over the past few years. His ideals of grandeur and recognition had washed away with the changing seasons. He saw himself now as the universe did, a small spec of dust floating in the wind, one minute there then the next gone, never to be seen again. His years of solitude had mellowed him out from a cranky hard headed realist professor at a university to a nature loving optimist. Life now was a fleeting thing, he spent his lonely nights thinking of all the times he could have walked away from the job, walked away from study and enjoyed life. There was no family to miss him and no sweet heart to pray for his return. He was a lonely star, still in the sky but not belonging to any cluster or constellation.   
The idea that we are two different people by day and by night was very real for the Doctor. At night he was a child of the universe looking out onto something more awesome than he could ever comprehend. During the day, he sat watching nature, its vicious innate procedures as birds ripped apart prey and chicks when starving when they didn’t. In the day he was Doctor Morgan, the droning Professor who had all his students rolling their eyes whenever he went on one of his rants entailing how science is more important than any friendly gathering or dead relative. As the starry nights faded into bright day he lost his sense of belonging and regained his anger of being left to die.   
He still saw nature for the beauty it was but in the day his dreams of distant worlds were blocked by yet another passing sun, taunting him as to how long he’s been stuck up there. Just a little while down the slope the good Doctor had created a tally chart recording each day he’d been on the mountain. Four thousand four hundred and seventy eight (4478) scores were on that wall. Starting from the left corner making its way down to the near bottom right. As the Doctor scrubbed the next line on the chalky white powder of the mountain rock fell away. Doctor Morgan stood back to view his work. From right to left the engravings faded from scratched white to embedded grey, some of the earliest marks were even becoming distorted and had tufts of moss sticking to them. That was his life, an old mark merging in with its surroundings, old enough to have damp weeds growing on it.   
There were times he just looked at that wall, times he studied each mark adding a memory of someone to it. As much as he tied to attach good memories to them all he could see was red. He had nothing good to say about his colleagues he even started to hate the institutions he’d help create. It was like some great injustice had been done to him, like he’d rolled the dice of life and ended up with snake eyes. He had to knock over his king and admit defeat, but not without cursing all those who let him fall. As much as he liked to tell himself he would have left a safety net out for anyone who fell from above him he knew it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t help anyone, he’d be the first one in to investigate their grant money or laboratory spaces.   
Although, he was never able to get too angry. Whenever the blood started to boil Delores wouldn’t be far away. Her light chirping would bring him back from his fit of anger and soften him once again to his little hut on a mountain. Delores unlike a child was more like a grandchild to him. He once again could be the old grandpa dishing out words of advice and worldly wisdom. He would talk to her like he was teaching a child to look at the stars for the first time, he showed her aspects of science with a far gentler approach than he had ever afforded his real students. For whatever wishful thinking it was Doctor Morgan saw in her the same spark that lit in him when he first looked up into the sky all those long years ago.   
One night while looking down on his little bio dome hut he’d started to think about his life here with Delores. He had what many men his age would see as a perfect retirement. An out of the way place, self sufficient everything and a partner there to see you till the end. He’d spent several years out on the mountain before picking Delores up. He was at an incredibly low point of his life. He’d long since given up on help and had finally put down his telescope for the last time. He’d taken off down the mountain, he wasn’t heading to the village, and he was just going. Having had enough of a life of solitude he decided to walk, anywhere, just walk. He’d walked for days down that mountain, through freezing nights and boiling days.   
Having taken a different, longer route down the mountain he stopped at an overhang just watching the world roll by. He wasn’t far from the village after a week. He was starving, freezing and inches from death. Still a spry man in his early fifties he blundered ever closer to the village. The locals didn’t like him much but they gave him what he needed so long as he left soon afterwards. The next nearest village was only a mere fortnight away but it was the treacherous jungle that kept the people of the village where they were. The mounds of poisonous snakes, insects, leaches and plants created a natural barrier between the people of the Anda village from the rest of their world.   
Doctor Morgan had thought long and hard about making the trek but his scientific mind knew that without someone who knew the area he would never make it out alive. No one was willing to leave their scarcely populated village with what little means of food they had to venture into the unknown. So with that Doctor Morgan made do with the five mud, tree and stone huts as his only source of refuge. He’d made it a mere mile away from the nearest hut before he passed out into the dried out dusty plain.   
When he awoke the sun blazed high in the sky and he was lying on a low cot made from scrapped wood and tree leaves. He was lying out away from the huts but still in sight of them. The locals had pitched a cloth out between two poles to keep the sun from hitting him. Green sludge oozed from under his legs as the locals had tried to patch up the weather beaten skin that had cracked away. Beside him was a misshapen pail of murky water. The pail was held together by broken clay and stone mud. Splashing about in the water on the other hand was a small squirrel monkey. It looked up to him with a screech as it palmed the water splashing it up into its own face.  
The younger Doctor Morgan watched the little primate jump around in the pail then jump out of it and onto him. By this time of day the sun was peeking over his make shift shade and blaring down onto the monkey and he. The monkey perched upon Doctor Morgan’s collapsed stomach, it petered about on his prominent rib bones its teeth bared in a kind of cheeky laughter. As the monkey peeked up to the Doctor the sun’s rays beat down on its back. The wet red hair created a halo around the animal the gold, ginger, hue illuminating it. It was then that Doctor Morgan knew he had to keep this beast, it was sent to him as an olive branch from the untamed wilds of the mountains. As he watched the red hair puff in the wind he was brought back to the beautiful lab assistant he’d had and lost all those years ago.   
It was from that moment on the Doctor and Delores were together. Although the trek back up the mountain gave the Doctor a breath of new life, he had a play mate and someone to talk to it wasn’t long before he started to wonder if he had gave Delores the same life he’d had. She was taken from her family, she had no brothers and sisters to play with, no children of her own. Had he condemned her to a life of solitude to be regretted when it was too late? There was one part of him that rationalised that if she wanted to, Delores could easily leave the unlocked hut and scamper her way down the mountain, back to her people. But he knew that was a lost hope. The mountain was far too treacherous for her to make it down, the creature probably suffered from some ape like Stockholm syndrome.   
For the first few weeks up on the mountain Delores clung to Doctor Morgan, every time she looked out over the cliffs she clung tighter. These weren’t trees to jump from one to another this was a perilous drop with a 0.0000000001% chance of survival. Delores didn’t like it much when Doctor Morgan sat down to read, she’d often smack or pull the book out of his hands wanting to go out onto the mountain again for a look at the view. Doctor Morgan indulged these flights of fancy until he pulled out a deck of cards. Within a day or two they were playing snap like pros. For the first time in so many years he’d smiled, he’d went to be after a good day, and once in a while even laughed.   
He fixed the bio-dome for her so there was room for her to just be amongst nature. It wasn’t natural for her to live in stone and wood, she needed living breathing things to just be around. While he was building the dome he’d noticed a rickety plank, going over to fix it he managed to put his foot straight through it. That foot sized hole became Delores’ passage to and from the her personal sanctuary. Back then the Doctor was in the minor stages of growing a beard. He had one useful razor left from his original bag and used it only in necessity. Delores liked to sit on his shoulder or chest and poke at her primate brother’s late growing fur. The Doctor supposed that to her, he was an odd looking primate not living with a pack, perhaps they were one and the same. Maybe friendship really could cross the boundaries of species.   
Now a days Delores was as old as he was when she first came into his life and he had grown to love her very much. Sadly, he’d also grown to hate the outside world. He had hermit-fied himself only being able to remember now all the times a fellow Doctor had done him wrong. There were two things on this mountain that kept him going, Delores and his diploma certificates. Hanging in beaten frames were old yellow documents pertaining his original bachelor's degree, his Post-grad and Masters, but in pride of place hung his Doctorial certificate. The day he was handed his scroll and became a Ph.D. was the proudest of his life. The average age of a Ph.D. graduate was 33 but he was just shy of 25. A young prodigy of the Astrological community he was hailed for his new ways of thinking. These documents were remnants of a life unlived.   
Doctor Morgan sat on his armchair with Delores at his side. He’d caught himself looking at his diplomas again. Often he didn’t even realise he was doing it and would only find out when he snapped awake from his day dream. Delores didn’t bother to wake him anymore, she’d spent enough time watching him in his reminiscent state, enough to know that it was best to let him get out of it himself. “You know.” He sighed to her. “After young geniuses grow up they just merge in with the rest of the rabble. To an outsider, I suppose I was nothing more than an old fart pottering his way around universities.” Delores squawked a reply. “No, you’re quite right old girl. I was magnificent.” He ruffled the monkey’s hair as she flopped about inside his cardigan.   
The Doctor sat blissfully mindless for a minute or so rubbing Delores’ belly before something caught his eye. There on the desk was a half-eaten jar of dried peaches. At once he clicked on to his reminder note. Lurching forward he was greeted with an unexpected surprise. The windowsill was back in place and the dust remnants of the misshapen stone animals had been swept away. Looking at the new fixings he was perplexed, he couldn’t remember fixing the sill but Delores defiantly didn’t do it. Of course he had fixed it, he propped the wood panel back up with the original tri pod stance and brushed the stone dust between the holes in the wood flooring. He chuckled for a moment, how he could doubt his own work.   
Delores jumped from him as he rose out of his chair walking towards the jar of peaches. Today was a good day, he felt as young as he did when he first got here. At the desk he gathered the jar in one hand and quickly swiped the note away with the other, not stopping to read the extra letters. Crumpling the note he stuck his hand out of the door letting the paper flow away in the breeze. Of course he wouldn’t get persecuted for pollution, no one wanted to travel that far up for an arrest. He rattled the jar and Delores came running. Standing over the pile of scattered preservatives he hitched his trousers up and bent down. Meanwhile Delores was rummaging through the jars to find something that fitted her taste for today’s lunch.   
Throwing away the mounds of jars of cherries, grapes, apples, oranges and limes Delores settled on Lucuma a fruit special to Peru and very tricky to grow. It had taken the Doctor many attempts to find good seeds. He mainly got his source from the bags at the village or rooting through high nesting birds nest. They did tend to pick the finest things. Taking the Lucuma jar away from Delores she squeaked and flew her fists out in tantrum but the Doctor had other ideas. Hiding the jar behind him, sneaking it behind two books he instead offered her a jar of Figs. Figs had become a monthly treat for the two. The sweet taste was to die for but the way it affected the Doctor’s bowels were not. One every now and then was fine, but all at once would cause a lot of stress on the mountain.  
Sitting down on the bed with their feast fit for king’s Delores managed to sneak away four figs in the time it took the Doctor to close the jar lid. He stole one back as a scolding to which she bared her teeth to him. These idol threats had become a joke between the two over the years each trying to out alpha the other. To a point they both knew they needed each other now. Delores wouldn’t be able to survive out there on her own and the Doctor would break if his only companion left him.   
The sun shone through the plastic window illuminating the Doctors armchair and most of the floor, the books on the lower shelves shone their bright damaged colours. The edges of the books were frayed but that just added to their character. They were worn but loved. Peeking out from under the edge of the desk was a thin wooden picture frame. The picture had been taken out of the frame and replaced with dust, there was at least an inch of outdoor dust shovelled into the frame. Delores put down her remaining fig and scampered over to the wooden toy. Pulling it out from underneath the desk she stuck a hooked finger in it. At times when the rain poured and snap grew dull Doctor Morgan had sought out new games for them to play. Busting out the picture from an old frame he filled it with dust and dirt and used it as an everlasting drawing board.   
Delores proceeded to push over the frame until it was within reach of Doctor Morgan, who then picked it up onto the bed. Hopping back up Delores slammed her tiny fists into the mattress demanding a game. With a scoff and a nod Doctor Morgan indulged her flights of fancy. The two sat for a few hours playing the lightly stimulating game before the sun started to edge it’s away under the horizon of the windowsill. Setting up the cross board for one last game Doctor Morgan made an ‘x’ in the top right hand corner. Delores batted him away with an ‘o’ on the other end. Placing another ‘x’ in the middle Delores let out a yelp when realising she’d lost the game.   
Doctor Morgan watched the light fading quickly from the room and gathered up Delores. The two left the hut and scuttled back to the top of the peek. Watching the sun go down was a good evening’s entertainment. Doctor Morgan loved it most when watching the sky above him fade from bright sunlight into the blackness of the night sky. He could never decide what end to watch. At one end the sun was setting leaving an orangey red hue over the mountains and at the other the blue sky was washing away in-between little stars that twinkled in the blackness it left behind. As usual he ended up watching the night sky be born anew and Delores watched the sun fade down pulling the shades of green and red with it.   
Soon the sky had left the world and the gateway to the universe had been opened. Now there was no more blue in the sky and the clouds were all below their level. On tonight’s selection of stars was a dish served up by Ptolemy. All those thousands of years ago in the second century, Ptolemy offered up the constellation of Corona Borealis. Blazing through the cupping constellation Doctor Morgan ventured into a2065, the Corona Borealis Cluster. “This cluster is important to the Astrological community because it is one of many examples used to suggest that the universe is expanding.” Doctor Morgan explained to Delores who was already fast asleep on his outlaying cardigan. To think that a place so infinite could become more so in front of my eyes. Doctor Morgan often became nostalgic and sentimental when reviewing the majesty of the universe.   
The night moved on and Doctor Morgan remained in his spot watching the universe unfold in front of him. There was no more anguish at the abandonment he’d faced at the hands of the London Institute, if anything their plan was helped along by the Edinburgh centre for Astrological Science. There was one time while working there back in the 1980’s the then young Doctor Morgan had just started to make a name for himself and when youth has an inflated ego they don’t care about values. He was working as part of a team who were looking to solve some of the mysteries of vortex possibilities in deep space. There had been much advancement in the field but when London came knocking with a higher paying wage on condition that he impede the results of course the cocky young doctor did it.   
The Astrological Science Centre lost nearly all its funding and every member of his team was let go due to an unfounded grant request to fund a subject that was ‘evidently’ going no-where. Doctor Morgan lost many fiends that day, and gained many enemies. The London institute couldn’t out right fire him or force him into early retirement without him causing a ruckus. The scandal he could cause for the institute would be astronomical, so they sent him away.   
When the stars began to twinkle less and the sky started to fade, Doctor Morgan knew it was time to go to bed. The Doctor sat up rubbing his eyes on the heel of his wrist. He’d looked so much into the sky he forgot what the world around him looked like. Taking a minute to readjust to the bumps and curves of the earth he pushed himself off of his rock turning to find Delores. She had wrapped herself up in his cardigan and was sleeping soundly. Tucking the arms of the jumper around her he bundled her up into a swaddle before making his way back down the shallow path.   
Carrying Delores like a baby Doctor Morgan reached his mark wall. Stopping to add another strike to it for the new day coming he looked out onto the moonlit brilliance of nature. The birds below him nested with their young, it would only be another few hours until the dawn broke and they would sing. He couldn’t see far or too much detail the goings on, on the ground but he could imagine the animals all curled up asleep and the hunting serpents looking for their next meal. It seemed odd to him but even the trees looked peaceful up here. Their leaves barely moved in the stationary wind and even their trunks looked to sag to the ground in rest. It was true that the Doctor had found no greater peace than that on the mountain.   
He leaned against the wall for a moment or two looking out onto the world as some great God watching creation unfold in front of him, and then he looked down. Swaddled in his arms was a brave little monkey who lived its life far from the requirements of its nature. Cuddled up like a babe in arms this tiny primate stuck with her friend to all ends. She shared his food, his home and his life and still she asked for nothing in return. The Doctor hooked one old finger under her sleeping chin, pushing her fur back from her face. He too had found solace in her.   
Just as he began to rest into his lull of watching his only friend sleep his worn foot slid from under him. He had jerked awake to pull himself back from falling over and doing so pressed Delores close to his chest. Laying a hand on the wall behind him he arched himself back up. Left on a spot close to his heart was a tiny paw gripping tight to his shirt. Delores, still asleep, had reached out for him when she felt him in distress.   
Pulling the monkey in with one arm he moved on back to their hut. Entering the hut was a mission in itself, the lack of lighting made it impossible to see. With one hand the Doctor reached out to feel for his generator switch. Once he’d found it the little light bulb buzzed awake. The generator clunked into a low hum and there was light once more. Still wrapped up in his cardigan Delores huddled in tighter, pulling the sleeves around herself. Not wanting to wake her up Doctor Morgan placed her in to the back corner of the armchair. He tucked her in tight so she wouldn’t roll off in her sleep, which would be unusual for monkey’s but Delores was a special case.   
When she was settled down and back into her peaceful slumber Doctor Morgan filled up his metal canteen from the pail he’d collected so many years ago. The crumby pail had lasted him as a snow melter. By leaving the mountain snow in the pail for a few hours he had fresh drinking water. Doctor Morgan’s hands shook as he held the heavy pail so he put it down and decided to pour it while sitting on his bead. Taking the sloshing canteen he moved over to his bed, pushing the pail with his foot. He stood over his bed looking for somewhere to set the canteen down.   
His grip failed and the canteen feel to the floor, spilling what little was inside. Doctor Morgan stood frozen over the frame of dust and sand. On the lower left square was a third ‘x’ with a line running through the triad “No.” He breathed. “I didn’t finish that game.” The old man’s hands started to shake as he stood looming over the board. I left that game unfinished. I know I did. He though, eyes darting to either side of the board. Breathing heavily from his nose the blood started to pump around Doctor Morgan, the sweat forming on his brow. There was no one up there, other than Delores and him. He knew that.   
“Of course I finished it.” The Doctor reassured himself. He started to chuckle lightly. “Who else could have done it? The Wirakocha. Of course the old man came to my door while I had stepped away.” The Doctor waved his arms in surrender to his story. As he gave in and wiped over the tray, he settled into bed, flicking off the light.   
Outside a figure stood looming over the window looking in. It stood for a moment before shifting away.


	3. Things that go bump in the Night

1  
The Doctor had been sleeping a mere hour before he was rudely awoken by the sound of something rummaging through his desk draws. In his drowsy state he rolled over to give the hoodlum a right rollicking. “What do you think you’re…” Propping himself up on his elbows he caught himself talking to the four walls. “Doing?” the last word fell from his lips as remanence of a sentence. In his ignorance Doctor Morgan had been caught unaware in the small gap of blissful euphoria between the waking world and that of dreams. In his ignorance he had quite forgotten that he wasn’t still at the London institute and even so, he’d forgotten there was no one there but the monkey and himself. For a moment in the silence he’d forgotten what awoke him. His sleep deprived mind was coming to terms with abandonment once again.   
After realising sleep would be a futuristic thing the Doctor leaned up to flick on the light. The dim bulb buzzed and popped into action. Illuminating mainly the rafter it was attached to it cast little shadow anywhere else. As Doctor Morgan’s eyes adjusted to the contrasting light he noticed for a moment, without fear, that the draws in his desk were open and mounds of paper lay atop of the surface. This didn’t seem to strike the good Doctor, a messy desk was a working desk. He was all too glad that his work had finally started up again. Delores stayed snuggled up in bed, having not been awoken by the Doctors ramblings.   
In a habitual manner he set about his usual practices of checking his watch before matching it to the sky above. He noted it down on a crumpled slice of paper before checking to see his previous progress. In his charts from the day before he had noted that the Crux star system seemed oddly bright for that time of year. The reasons attributed to this were the breakdown of natural gasses in the ozone layer allowing the light to pierce the sky with more ferocity than before. The Doctor went on like this for a good while. Checking he’s got his systems right, the light balances in the sky and any stray asteroids that streaked across the skyline. Doctor Morgan was quite at home with his habitual process of scribbling things down in his journal. At last, his safe kept, brown leather, monogramed book had a purpose.   
And then it hit him.   
He hadn’t been writing in his journal. His telescope remained untouched with the cobwebs still adorning it. He’d put his work to bed long ago. So why now was he writing? Why was their already work in there, dated through the past few days? The Doctor froze, pen in hand. He peered down at his notes in a weak attempt to analyse his forming thoughts. He sat steadfast not moving or breathing an inch. The world had stopped in its tracks. The air stood still and even the birds in the sky paused in flight. And the Doctors hand began to shake. The shaking snaked up his arm and the pen fell to the desk. The end crashed down first propelling the entire object onto the nib as it bounced back and forth stumbling to a halt before rolling to the side.  
Doctor Morgan’s hands thrashed frantically through his books and papers in the hurried hope that if he could remember what he wrote it wouldn’t seem so bad. He studied each page as meticulously as he could in the split second period he held it. The words seemed like his but the writing wasn’t. It looked like something he would say but he didn’t remember writing it. It was like going back over old work books from childhood, the writing wasn’t yours, the words were, but you couldn’t remember writing it. Doctor Morgan started to feel a burning, deep down, in the pit of his stomach. A rising bile sending shivers up his spine. His hands fisted into balls, crumpling up the paper they were holding and, in a fit of rage the desk was thrown across the floor, sending the papers flying.   
The scattering settled in a blanket over the rickety old floor boards. In all the ruckus Delores was awoken with a jolt. Her fine fur standing on end as the tiny frame sprang into action. In a defensive stance honed from millions of years of evolution, Delores as a primal being stood as terrifying as a clumsy puppy who was still in the stages of falling over its own paws. The light bulb flickered and swung freely gathering momentum from the gust of wind produced my Doctor Morgan’s outrage. The good Doctor it seems was hushed into a lull. His rage had subsided and he had sunken into a stupor. He swayed gently in the middle of the floor, whispering words of comfort to himself of how this was all trick and he’d simply forgotten his studies. There was a soft hue in the night light where the Doctor stood, placed just outside the swaying lights reach.   
The monkey clung to the bed in the hope that this was all some midnight jest. Doctor Morgan on the other hand stood in a blundered state, his logical mind clicking into overdrive while the rest of him still felt like it was cuddled up warm in bed. His swaying and the lights swinging were perfectly in tune, the Doctors confused features became illuminated as the light swung to him. He then vanished into the blackness behind as it swung away. The bulb flickered as Doctor Morgan began to realise the mess he’d made. There in the moon light his mind softened. He couldn’t remember much of why he was so angry, the whole situation seemed funny to him now.   
Within a few short breaths he began to chuckle. The chuckle grew more and more until it had been absorbed into a full laugh. Doctor Morgan laughed so, that even Delores relaxed back into the bed. Ruffling his hand through his thinning hair the Doctor grinned wildly giggling like a little school girl. Delores squeaked bouncing around the bed in excitement. The Doctors eyes grew watery in his joy as his cheeks flushed red with laughter. The giggling fit continued, verging on hysteria, but after a while the giggles subsided. The bouts of laughter hushed and turned into a moan of pain.   
Tears pricked and stung the corners of Doctor Morgan’s eyes. Soon they sprung over in streams of tears rolling over his cheeks. He doubled over clutching his arms around himself, chest heaving with bursts of painful moans. Kneeling on the floor the room and its inhabitants grew silent. The wailing had stopped and both Doctor Morgan and Delores sat, quiet as the grave. Delores, a by all means kind hearted monkey was still as playful as she was when she was a babe snuck down onto the floor skipping closer to the Doctor who sat on his feet breathing quietly.   
Edging her way closer to him she let out a few yelps hoping for a reply. When her questions were not met she scooted closer again. Peering back to the safety of the bed she kept watch of it as her little hands carried her closer to her companion. Reaching a finger out to him her small appendages were just short of the right length. Creeping closer again her bent knuckle pressed against the good Doctors arm, to whit his response was uncommon.   
Delores fully expected to be gathered up into her keepers arms and read to as she fell asleep in his ever unravelling cardigan, but this time was different. The Doctor brushed off Delores’ advance and pushed her away. Stumbling back a few paces the little primate stood on her hind legs her mouth opening to yelp but nothing coming out. Dropping back down and scampering to the bed in retreat she sat amongst the worn covers, her tail wrapping around her for comfort. She let out on forlorn squeak before burrowing under the covers.   
He sat there for a moment longer, holding himself. In his sullen mood he’d allowed himself to sink into a quite state with only his thought for comfort. This was never good. The Good Doctor had had a few hard wood floor resets in the past few years. As smart a man he was all the rationale in the world would not relieve him of his loneliness. He’d kept his mind busy with far off lands and great thinkers but as with everyone, the night gave him bounds of time to think. When you are alone and alone with your thoughts sometimes the world seems like a much scarier place.   
When you seek to stave off the unending years of solitude you look for humanity in almost anything. Delores, for a while, kept that fixation at rest. She had eyes, a nose and her own personality. He was for a time, content with her. But with a mind like his, he longed for conversation, to hear the other half of something rather than just think it. And so, as night crawls in so do the shadow men. The Shadow men as Doctor Morgan put it were “Fanciful delusions of faces one sees during the night.” Have you ever looked to your wall and saw a large jarring hand stretching across it only to have the wind knock the tree outside your window and make the image change?. Well that was Doctor Morgan’s Shadow men.   
Children will sleep in their beds at night, covers tucked up to their chins. If only to hide from the monsters under the bed. That too was what the Good Doctor did for a while. But he grew so lonely that a boogie man would at least be something to pass his time or create any form of interaction.   
So now he was there again, hunkered down on the floor listening to his own thoughts. You brought this on yourself. No one deserves this. You’re alone. I have Delores. You’ll die alone. I know. So why keep everyone waiting, do it now. No, she needs me. She doesn’t need you, look at you, how can you help her? She wouldn’t survive on her own. She’s a primate, you cling to life grimly old man. I have years yet to live. To what point? I will find a point. There is no one here to love you or help you or even look at you. Your existence is justified only by your own ego.   
“No!” Doctor Morgan stood upright fists clenched at his side. The room stood silent still. Thoughts of ending your existence were not uncommon to those who had reason to even question if they existed anymore. Self-preservation was a luxury he experienced here and there. When you stand at the edge of the world and scream but the world says nothing back a man can feel the strangest sensations, of nothingness, of bliss, of flight or of immortality. Should you offer Doctor Morgan the chance at Immortality twenty years prior to his being stuck on the mountain he would have kissed your feet. Now that he was up here, to live forever would be a far greater punishment than any. For all he knew, he had lived forever.   
Doctor Morgan was a proud man but darker thoughts did not evade him. When life itself consists of little joys and the daily grind of only rising from your sleep to pillage though the day for survival then go to sleep at night to recharge and do it all again, you can’t really blame the man for seeking a way out. He kept going, because she kept going. The odd little primate who could play a dab hand at snap was his reason for a time to keep himself together. Her idle little mind thought of nothing but play and fun and with it he found some small hope of joy. Although a welcome distraction at first Delores had grew to be a well trusted and loyal friend. He would have been proud to show her off to the fellows at the institute. But even she was not enough.   
The man had needs the monkey could not fill. He longed for human touch, if just a handshake. He often wept at the thought of someone, anyone wrapping their arms around him to tell him he had not been alone. The times he wept and the times he smiled seemed like different lifetimes. He could not remember his sleepy tears but as if in a dream, a story of someone else. His days gave him his miss-held pride, a stiff upper lip and drive to move forward. His nights made him human. 

 

2  
With a small blighter of a flea gnawing away at the base of her tail Delores slapped it away with a hiss. Since she had joined the Doctor on his indentured passage on the mountain. His passage paid but his contract expired with him. She did not claim to know Doctor Morgan well. Her playful nature gave him the smile he needed but she would never fully understand his fear of decaying on the mountain.   
She’d often spent her days squealing with joy as she swooped in and out of the small crevasse between the hut floor boards. Her days were as happy as she’d ever known. She was not put to pot for the tribes people or becoming some great swooping birds breakfast. Her wavering existence on this planet was made the little more joyful for the simple fact she had him. Many zoologists will tell you how primates can form strong bonds with their human carers often bringing them into the family circle. To Delores there was no difference between the Doctor and her, there was no family ties, just the man she found on the mountain.   
She watched on at her dearest friend crumble in front of her. Curled up in her own den of safety she knew she could do nothing for him now. No fruit picking or game of cards would sooth him in this state. The little creature could only count on herself tonight, he would be sat in his own little world until morning and she knew this. Tonight however, he seemed off.  
3  
Staring blindly into the misshapen wood walls the Doctor could feel the room pulse around him, the walls shifted and moved as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. The Piccadilly Circus in his mind raced through into a blurring halt. His mind fuzzed with static as the swaying motion over took him. Try as he might to escape, even just in his mind, he could never fin the door. Then there was a thud.   
A footstep landing close behind him on the floor. Snapping out of his melancholy the Doctor spun around to face the person behind him. Taking in a sharp breath he was faced instead with only the dust particles dancing in the dim light. His heart racing the Doctor blew out a sigh of relief. His heart rate slowing slightly at the realisation that it was only his imagination. Then there was a thud.   
Facing forward again Doctor Morgan was met with a shadow, but then he wasn’t. The hazed blur was there and gone, so quickly you could hardly be sure it was ever there. His pulse skyrocketed, beating so hard he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He could feel it smacking against his chest. Then there was a thud.   
This time outside, out beyond the rickety hut, out on the mountain. There it was again, the shadow, just outside the dishevelled window. The mirage of blackness forming the human shape. And then, it was gone. The Doctors hand flew to his chest as panic set in. The room was spinning and he couldn’t catch his breath, what was happening? Then there was a thud.  
Out further on the mountain this time, rocks came falling down as someone attempted to make their way further up the sloping path. The rocks fell and dust blew into the air. The crunch of footsteps making their way up the mountain sent Doctor Morgan into a fit of hysteria. Who was here? Why had they come now? What were they planning to do? He flung open the door and chased after the mystery man following in suit up the mountain. The cold dreary night seemed to do nothing to the old Doctor who was still in his sleeping attire, his bone quaked with the cold but he could not feel it. Then there was a thud.   
The Doctor had reached the peak of the slope, the point Delores and he would look out on the world and to the sky in all its majesty. And there in front of him the shadowy mass stood. Toe to toe. The Doctor could feel everything inside of him tense. His heart froze in place, unable to beat for fear of what stood in front of him. The figure seemed to draw focus to itself, everything around it blurred out of sight, so there was only the Doctor and it. Then there was a thud.   
Screeching from back in the hut Doctor Morgan snapped around to see Delores jumping about in the swaying light as there in the window, inside his home, stood the shadow man. Turning back he was alone on the mountain. Him and the wind. In a second he took off racing down the mountain. His night garments waving in the wind as his feet hit hard on every malicious stone placed in his path. He reached the hut panting and scared. Swinging the door open he caught sight of Delores hopping all over the bed squealing at something the other side of the room. Then there was a thud.  
The Doctor turned to face his demon and there he stood once more. The Shadow man so close to him his blurring figure merging away into the fixtures. The world fell silent, Delores stopped jumping and the Doctor began to rock once more, feeling the shadowy figure pulling him. Then there was a thud.   
Doctor Morgan awoke with a jolt, gathering his whereabouts he realised it was morning once more and both he and Delores were tucked up in bed. Beside him lay one of his more damaged books, the pages all tattered and torn. “The Turn of the Screw” by Henry James lay folded over. The Doctor simply chuckled, ghost stories before bed were never a good idea. He rubbed his eyes with the base of his palms. Then there was a thud.


End file.
